“Did you meet her this morning?”
“I did. She came down for breakfast a little after 8 I think. I said good morning to her as did Richard but all she could do was offer a feeble smile. Not friendly at all. She ate in silence by herself and then went back up to her room. A little while later she came back down and walked out the front door. At least that’s what Richard told me. I was upstairs in my room.”
“What time would that have been?”
“Probably about 9am.”
“Did you hear anything or see anything when you and she were upstairs?”
“No. I just heard her leave. Her room is further down the hall from ours. I heard her lock it, at least I presume it was her and then her footsteps down the hall and past my bedroom and then down the stairs. I had closed the door to my room. I didn’t see anything.”
“When did you find out she had been murdered?” asked DCI Milling.
“I came down again at about 930am I think. We were just going to stay in this morning as the weather is still terrible. I think it was somewhere between 930 and 10 when Elmer came back in and asked Pearl to call the police. Richard and Félix asked what was wrong and he told them the poor girl had been murdered up on the fell.”
“Did you go out to see?” asked DCI Milling.
“Good heavens, no,” she said. “Richard and I stayed here in the house. Félix and Elmer went back out to direct the police.”
“But I did see you up on the fell before we all came in,” said Frances.
“Well yes. When all the police arrived we decided to go out and have a look. We all did. But we couldn’t see much.”
Frances nodded and looked over at DCI Milling.
“Any other questions, Inspector?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“You’re free to go, Mrs. Meakin. And can you ask Félix Delastelle to come in.”
Myrtle got up and left the room, closing the door on them as her husband had done before her.
“Both of them saw the driver who dropped off Félix,” said Lady Marmalade. “He seems to fit the description of the murderer. Perhaps there is something more to Félix than meets the eye.”
“Let us try and find out,” said DCI Milling.
Alfred sat off to the side taking notes. He wasn’t happy to have been brought into a murder investigation. This was supposed to be a holiday of sorts for Lady Marmalade away from all the madness that usually took place in London. No, he didn’t like it at all.
TEN
Frenchman's English
FÉLIX Delastelle didn’t look like a Frenchman in the classical sense. Frances couldn’t put her finger on it. It was something about the nose, seemed the French had been involved with the Romans longer than the English and that gave them, oftentimes, a more Roman or aquiline nose. At least that was her impression of the many times she had spent in France. There were many exceptions to the rule of course, and in front of her was one such example. Félix looked like an exception.
He was of average height and had dark straight hair. He had a clean-shaven face and brown eyes. He was slim and otherwise nondescript. He was not a man who would leave you with an impression long after having parted company.
“Please sit down,” said DCI Milling, pointing at the chair across from him. “I’m DCI Chester Milling and this is Lady Frances Marmalade and Mr. Alfred Donahue.”
“Ah oui, the policeman needs help with the case from the Lady, non?” said Félix with a mischievous smile. His English was perfect but with a French accent.
“I see no humor in the murder of a young woman, Mr. Delastelle.”
“No, I apologize, Inspector. It is a grave matter indeed.”
“Tell me why you are here?”
“To enjoy some quiet countryside from the cacophony that is London, non?”
“That’s what everyone says,” said DCI Milling.
“But of course. Look around you, Inspector. Is it not quiet and peaceful here?”
“When did you arrive?”
“Yesterday.”
“What time?”
“I don’t know exactly. Before afternoon tea as you English like to call it. Madame Nisbet pours the tea at 330. I was here before then.”
“Well before?”
“Oh no Inspector. Perhaps between 3 and 330. You can ask Richard and Myrtle. They saw me come in.”
“Were you alone?”
Félix smiled at the Inspector.
“Ah Inspector, you are a cunning bobby, non?”
DCI Milling didn’t say anything to that.
“You must know that I was dropped off by a man in a car. You have already spoken to Mr. and Mrs. Meakin, non? Why not ask me directly?”
“Very well, Mr. Delastelle. Who was the man who dropped you off?”
“A kind stranger. He overheard me asking when the next bus was leaving for Windermere. I would not have gotten here before 4. He said he was heading up that way if I cared for a lift. Of course I said yes.”
“What was his name?”
“He said his name was Mr. Edsel Schmidt.”
“German?”
“Correct, Inspector, he did sound German to me.”
“And what did you speak about on your trip up here?”
“Not much, Inspector, he made me do most of the talking. He asked about the farmhouse here and how many boarders they had. He also asked who owned the largest piece of land up here and was this my first time here. Those sorts of questions.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I told him that I thought the Nisbets had 3 or 4 rooms to rent but I didn’t know how many were rented. I didn’t know who owned the largest property here, but I did admit to this being the first time I was up here.”
“Inspector,” said Frances. DCI Milling looked at her. “I own the largest piece of land around here.”
DCI Milling nodded his head slowly.
“I see. That is very interesting.” Then he turned back to Félix. “What else did he talk about?”
“He asked if I’d seen his cousin here. This was the real reason he was waiting at the station he said. He was waiting for his cousin. And this is very interesting, Inspector, non? He said her name was Mary Sorrows and described her as being of average height with shorter, curly brown hair and a large brown jacket. Just as she was when you found her.”
Frances and DCI Milling exchanged looks.
“You came up from London?” asked Frances.
“That is right.”
“And you told Mr. Schmidt that?”
“Yes, I did. He seemed quite worried he had missed his cousin. I didn’t see everyone on the train but I didn’t see a woman traveling alone who matched his description.”
“And you thought nothing of it?” asked Frances.
“Of course not, non. He was a friendly stranger giving me a ride up here. He was talkative, mais oui, but I did not find it unusual. The two of us are from the continent and I had the impression he was trying to create, how do you say, rapport.”
“And now his cousin, who is surely not his cousin is dead.”
Delastelle looked down and slowly shook his head.
“Oui, this is a tragedy.”
“And what are you doing in England?” asked Frances.
Delastelle looked back up at her.
“I have come to escape the war.”
“And how did you get here, Mr. Delastelle?”
“I came across the Channel in a small boat with many refugees. Not all of us made it.”
“When was this?”
“It was September of last year. The weather was calm though there was a fog at the end and the Channel turned tumultuous.”
“So you are here illegally?” said Frances.
“Non, Madame, I am entitled to be here. My father was English.”
“I see, and where are you from, Paris?”
“Mon Dieu, non, I am from Lyon.”
“That’s much further away.”
Dela
stelle shrugged.
“I am not sure what you are trying to suggest. I am not here illegally. I have my passport in my room upstairs. I am entitled to be on English soil as much as you are, my Lady. I had nothing to do with that poor woman’s death. Mary Sorrows.”
Delastelle crossed himself then.
“I hope you catch him, this German Edsel Schmidt,” he said.
“If he did it,” said Frances.
Delastelle looked up at her incredulously.
“Who else could it be?”
Frances shrugged.
“Surely it must be him. No one else was around then.”
“Unless Minnie was followed from the station when she arrived.”
“Minnie?”
“Yes, it appears that Mary Sorrows was not her real name.”
“Minnie who?”
“That is not for you to worry about, Mr. Delastelle,” said DCI Milling. “But what I would like you to worry about is telling me all about her. This Mary Sorrows. Let us use the name she wanted.”
“What would you like to know, Inspector?” asked Delastelle.
“Take us through it from the beginning. When you first met her until now.”
“She arrived late last night. I was playing gin rummy with Richard Meakin. We were listening to the news. It had just started so it must have been around 11pm. Elmer Nisbet was sitting by the window reading the paper. There was a loud banging on the door and he went to answer it.”
“Elmer Nisbet answered the door?”
“Yes. He answered it and there was Mary Sorrows dressed as she was this morning when we found her. She held her suitcase in front of her and she looked nervous.”
“How do you know she was nervous?” asked Frances.
“She was fidgeting and she glanced back behind herself a few times before Elmer brought her inside. Elmer asked her how he could help. She needed a room she said, and asked if he had a spare one. They made introductions, and that’s when I heard her name and then he took her to the back room, presumably to sign paperwork and get the key.”
“Did she say how long she was staying?” asked Frances.
“Yes, just before they went to the back room, she said she only needed the room for the one night.”
“Did she say why she was up here?” asked DCI Milling.
“She said she was up to escape the chaos of London.”
“And that didn’t seem strange to you?”
“Oui, but then again, who am I to judge. The whole thing seemed strange, Inspector. Why was a young woman up here at such a late hour just for the day? It was surely not just to escape London. It seems she was up here to meet someone.”
“How do you know that?” asked Frances.
“Elmer told me she had given him a piece of paper and that she had tried to say something to him before she died.”
“Did you see that piece of paper?”
“Oui, I did. But it made no sense to me. Just random string of letters. I told him he should give it to the police as soon as they arrived. And that’s what he did.”
“Getting back to last night,” continued DCI Milling.
“Yes. Shortly after Elmer and Mary went to the back room, she came back out with her suitcase and went upstairs to her room. I didn’t see her again that evening.”
“What did you do?”
“Finished the game of rummy with Richard and then I went up to bed too.”
“Richard and you said nothing about it.”
Delastelle shrugged.
“Richard thought it was odd she was here so late. He wondered what she was doing. I didn’t have any answers for him.”
“But you saw her again this morning?” asked DCI Milling.
“Yes at breakfast. She sat by herself. Nobody spoke with her…”
“Richard and Myrtle said good morning, didn’t they?” asked Frances.
“Well, yes. But nobody had a conversation with her. She certainly didn’t want to be bothered, you could tell that right away. She ate and then went back up to her room.”
“What happened then?” asked DCI Milling.
“I was having digestive troubles so I went up to the bathroom. When I came down Mary wasn’t there. I asked Richard where she was and he told me she had gone out. Very shortly after that, Elmer came back in to tell us what had happened.”
“You were about to go out too, weren’t you? When you heard that Mary had left? Would you like to tell us why that was, Mr. Delastelle?”
“Pure coincidence. I was feeling much better having been to the bathroom and I thought a good walk would help my constitution.”
“We also heard, Mr. Delastelle, that you were outside last night between around 8pm and 9pm. What were you doing then?”
“I like to walk in the evenings before bed. Especially out in the country. Morning and night, I find a good walk the best thing for the mind and the body.”
“You weren’t looking for anyone?” asked DCI Milling.
“Mon dieu, non. To tell the truth, Inspector, I am also trying to stop smoking, but it’s quite difficult. I find a cigarette at night helps calm the nerves. I sleep better for it. Who would I want to be finding out here in the country at that time of night?”
“I don’t know, who?” asked DCI Milling.
“No one, that’s who. Non, Inspector, you are looking under the wrong bush. Is that how you English say it?”
“How long are you here for, Mr. Delastelle?”
“I am here until Thursday. Though if the weather gets better I might stay longer.”
“And you are expecting no one to visit you?”
“Non.”
“You are not married?”
“Non, Inspector. My fiancé died last year from the German bombs. I have nobody left.”
“Well, don’t go anywhere before Thursday, and if you do be sure to contact me at the Cumbria Constabulary.”
Delastelle nodded somberly. DCI Milling looked over at Frances but she had nothing to ask.
“Very well, you may go. Ask Elmer and Pearl to come on in.”
Delastelle got up to leave.
“Just one other thing, Mr. Delastelle,” said Frances. He stopped and looked at her. “Did you get the license plate number for Schmidt’s car?”
Delastelle looked down for a moment. When he looked back up at her he said, “non”, and left the kitchen.
“There’s something about him, Inspector, that just doesn’t quite ring true?”
“Like what?”
“He has a French accent and yet his English is flawless and his vocabulary large. Do you not find that odd?”
“Not at all. His father’s one of us. He was likely schooled here at one point or his father spoke only English to him.”
ELEVEN
Pearl of Wisdom
PEARL walked into the kitchen first. She had her hands clasped in front of her and she was wearing a clean white apron over top of her heavy blue dress. She also wore a bonnet on her head. Clean and blue. Under it, some of her gray, curly hair poked out. She had a round, chubby face which matched her round body. She wore round glasses on a thin silver wire frame. She was a short woman, though probably still an inch or two taller than Lady Marmalade’s 5 feet, give or take an inch. Lady Marmalade usually gave herself that inch.
Elmer was behind her and in his hand he carried his flat cap. He towered above her by almost a foot, and he might have been as tall as Alfred if Alfred were standing up to be measured next to him. He was tall regardless, at least 6 feet and 2 inches. He let his wife have the last chair. He stood like a sentry behind her and to her right.
“Thank you for allowing us to use your kitchen for the interviews,” said DCI Milling. “As you might already know, I am Detective Chief Inspector Chester Milling of the Cumbria Constabulary and with me is Lady Frances Marmalade and Mr. Alfred Donahue. Lady Marmalade sometimes consults with Scotland Yard on these sorts of unfortunate matters.”
Pearl Nisbet went to stand up, probably to curts
y, but Frances put out her hand and stopped her.
“Not necessary, Mrs. Nisbet,” said Frances. “This is very informal. I am nothing more than a regular guest in your home.”
Pearl nodded.
“Yes, my Lady,” she said.
“We know this is a very difficult, and dare I say unfortunate, event, that has happened on your property.”
“I just hope you get justice for the young woman,” said Elmer.
“That’s what we’re trying to do,” said DCI Milling. “With that in mind, we’d like to ask you some questions. Bearing in mind that this is no indication of your innocence or guilt.”
DCI Milling’s tone with Elmer and Pearl was much softer than it had been with the others except perhaps for Myrtle.
“Now Elmer has told us pretty much all he knows. But I’d like to ask you a few questions if I may, Pearl?”
Pearl nodded, seemingly quite eager to help.
“Before we do that, Inspector,” said Frances. “I’d just like to ask Elmer if he remembered seeing the license plate at all?”
Elmer shook his head.
“I’m afraid not, mum, it was too far away.”
Frances nodded and smiled weakly at him. She leaned back in her chair disappointed with how little she knew of the crime. A woman was murdered with a knife on the fell and nobody saw anything. Her best suspect was a man of perhaps average height with black or dark brown hair who drove a black car with a license plate that might have had a 3, a T or a Y in it.
On top of that, Minnie Shelford had decided to write a cryptic note to her that Frances had yet to see and that may or may not end up helping. And she did not know a Minnie Shelford. In fact, she couldn’t say she knew anyone very well from Bletchley Park. And yet if it was related to Bletchley Park it was of utmost importance that she get to the bottom of it.
“Did you meet Minnie Shelford, also known as Mary Sorrows, last night when she arrived?”
“No, Inspector, I was in bed by 10. I usually can’t stay up as late as Elmer. He has the constitution of a horse,” she said, smiling, feeling very proud of her husband. The two of them reminded Lady Marmalade of Jack Sprat and his wife.
The Golf, Cheese and Chess Society Page 6